Roomie

Sunday evening, my new roommate, Jared, finally moved in for real. I've put a lot of effort into clearing all my junk from his room (though it means that the rest of the apartment is a wreck at the moment). His parents are in Brazil for at least a couple of months—then perhaps at the end of the summer moving there permanently.

I'm not quite sure what I expected from an 18-year-old roommate. The real person is pretty much like an 18-year-old kid. He's got a girlfriend who seems to rivet his attention with almost constant online conversation. He's not too thrilled with cleaning up his quarters. His food tastes aren't too gourmet (ramen and pizza). He's pretty happy with the idea that he really can do what he pleases (within logical limits). His school is off today for snow, but I'm working. He walked down to the church, where he will probably help get ready for the church dinner this Saturday. His idea. I'm not sure when he'll be back, but that's his affair, not mine.

I'm very pleased to have him around, though I sometimes grumble under my breath. I guess I'd do that at any roommate who doesn't do things exactly my way, though. The apartment doesn't seem so empty any more.